Complaints
by The One Called Demetra
Summary: The Lord of the Rings characters have had enough of fanfiction. What do to but go on a transdimensional adventure of Sue hunting and anthromorphized personifications with a random author off the very site they loathe?
1. I Go Crazy

**Some points**

**-My first attempt at LotR  
-Albeit a very silly and as of now rewritten one  
-Also generally movie based because most bad fanfiction is based on the movies.**

My life is generally not terribly exciting.

Okay, no surprised there. I am very likely of the most common type of people ever. Middle class, suburb living, average looking young neophyte of life. The most interesting thing I've done all week is fall down the stairs in what I'm assuming was a fairly comical way. I don't really do much except read; sleep; occasionally rouse myself from a literary stupor to eat; and in some rare cases, pay attention in school, too.

Today was not particularly different from the contented monotone of my existence, other than it was an unusually nice day and that it was probably a holy day in some far off African culture. I would have perhaps returned to the book in my lap had I not been so absorbed in staring out the window at what must have been an extremely interesting spot on the back yard fence. There was not, in fact, anything particularly absorbing about that certain spot on the backyard fence. Just in case you were a fence enthusiast and were wondering. Mostly I was just quietly enjoying what must have been a very nice day as well as one can from inside an insulated suburban house, and was vaguely thinking about going upstairs to get a bag of chips. So yeah, a generally peaceful setup on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Little to my knowledge, I was in for a less-than-peaceful experience in about…3…2…1

"You! Girl!" a gruff voice barked at me. I, in my eternal grace and physical eloquence, fell out of my chair in a decidedly painful fashion. I then made either the worst or best decision of my life, depending on if you're so sort who enjoys adventure and astonishing revelations, or if you're the type who'd mostly be content with surviving long enough to have children. I stood up and turned around.

To say I was surprised was an understatement. In fact, to say that the previous sentence was an understatement was an understatement in itself. I was surprised, astonished, amazed, astounded, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, alarmed, floored, shocked, stunned, and other such synonym's for 'surprised' all rolled into one. Of course I probably would have been much more so than that if I had been a rational child. By 'rational' I here mean 'not currently in a fanfic'. Not that I was very rational in the first place. Not a chance in Mordor.

The reason being for me cursing Middle-Earth style, is the very same that I was surprised, astonished, amazed, astounded, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, alarmed, floored, shocked, and stunned, as there was several very strange looking, yet unnervingly familiar, people standing in my room.

There were five short guys, one with a beard, an old man in a white robe, two fairly normal looking men, and another one, fairer and lighter somehow. Now most people would have fainted dead away, or run screaming from the room, if only one guy, let alone nine, randomly appeared in front of them (not to mention carrying assorted swords, knives, bows, axes and other various (and very, very pointy) weapons) but since this is fanfic, my fainting would be rather disruptory to the debatably existent plot.

Several times I opened and closed my mouth, attempting to form intelligible words. In my formerly mentioned eternal eloquence, I said, "You—but—book—why are—how—"

My pointless babbling was cut off by one of the men, who looked startlingly similar to Viggo Mortensen. "Excuse him," he said.

I promptly shut up.

"But we have all been on the edge lately," The man continued. I wasn't about to believe my senses. There were plenty of good reasons for my suddenly believing the Fellowship was standing in my room. Perhaps I was dreaming. Yes, dreaming, and I'd forgotten that I'd fallen asleep. Or maybe I'd gotten into drugs without my noticing and was currently high on hallucinogens. And there was always madness. Yes. I've gone mad. Mad as a hatter. Of course. That's a good explanation. Even as screwed up as I was, I knew that book characters most certainly did not jump out of books and talk to people. That's such an obvious fact that it's hardly worth mentioning. You know, despite the fact that they're all there.

Well, so long as I've gone mad (or the participant of a very elaborate practical joke) I might as well enjoy it. Favorite book characters don't suddenly start chatting it up with you every day, right?

The man that I was pretty sure was Legolas was watching me warily out of narrowed eye. That perplexed me, vaguely. Mary Sues? Fangirls? Gender stereotyping, then. Hell, if fictional characters were running around in the real world Mary Sues were probably off somewhere attacking innocent elves. I have a demented sense of logic like that, see.

I finally found my voice, and boy when I found it, it wouldn't shut up. "Oh my God, what are you people doing here? Why are you in my room? How can you be here? You aren't real! Are you? What the hell is going on?" I said, or rather shrieked, and continued in a similar vein for several minutes. Well you can't really blame me, can you? Even in my apparent insanity doesn't mean I can't be surprised. Since my psyche has finally broken and is trying to make me think fictional characters are real—and standing perfectly casually in my room—I might as well be surprised.

Toward the back of my room, Merry turned to Pippin. "Am I real, Pip?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure you're real."

"Why did that lady there claim we weren't real?"

"Maybe she had too much ale?"

"Probably."

I was still ranting. "You guys have a book written about you! I didn't think that it was—" I was cut off mid-rant by Gandalf, who was holding up a rather battered paperback of the Fellowship of the Ring. Oh. Right. That's the book I was reading before I went inexplicably deranged.

"You mean this?" he asked. I nodded dumbly. But before I could start on a new ramble of questions involving how they would have known about the books about themselves, Legolas spoke, still suspiciously glaring at me. Or do I have that backwards? Gah, now I'm confused. Even insane delusions have to have some kind of logical limits, don't they?

"We are here to complain," he said

I blinked. "Complain about…what?" I asked dully. Why were they complaining to _me_, anyway?

About five seconds after I asked that, the room (figuratively, of course) exploded with enraged shouts from the various Fellowship.

"Elbereth help me, the fangirls!" Legolas yelled out. Ah; so my suspicions were correct.

"Why is it Arwen is constantly portrayed as unworthy to be my queen?" That was Aragorn.

"And the Sues…the Sues!" Legolas again.

"Why do we act like toddlers?" the almost simultaneous cry of the Hobbits.

"I am a _dwarf_! I dwarf I tell you! Not a midget! Dwarf!" from the resident dwarf.

"Eru help m…the fangirl-spawned Sues!" Poor Legolas.

"I am no rapist!" Boromir yelled. Hey, shouldn't he be dead?

"Arwen is not a Gorgon!"

"My wizardly pride has never has been at its lowest!"

"Not a rapist I tell you!"

"I am a fifty year old Hobbit! Not a child!"

"The things haunt me in my sleep!"

"She is the love of my life! Why must she be insulted so?

"SILENCE!" I thundered in a ridiculously loud and resonating voice for a teenage girl. Even more surprising was that everybody did just as I said. Hmm. Note to self: use scary voice to frighten sister. [1]

"Geez. She's scarier than Arwen. A mad Arwen." Boromir muttered under his breath, earning a well placed punch to the gut from Aragorn.

I chose to ignore that. I continued in a slow, irritated voice. "Firstly…how the hell are fictional characters in my bedroom? (Merry groaned. "There she goes, denying our existence again." "Definitely too much ale." Pippin replied.) Assuming that I'm not actually a madwoman, I mean? ("Oh.")

Gandalf waved a hand impatiently. "That doesn't matter. The Authoress will just assume wizards can do that kind of thing."

"Oh. S'pose that makes sense. So what exactly are you complaining about again?"

"That frightening thing you mortals refer to as 'fanfiction'." Gandalf replied with a grimace.

"Ah."

"Okay…but what exactly am I supposed to do about it?"

Silence. An awkward one.

"Well…" Aragorn said. "We are not quite sure." I blinked.

"But we have noticed you to be a little…" Boromir added on, trailing off. You know, he REALLY should be dead now.

"Scarier," Gimli picked up "Than most of the other authors."

"Hmm," I muttered, if a 'hmm' can be considered muttering at any rate. "Are you sure it's not the Authoress blatantly manipulating facts and events for the sake of a good story?"

"Probably," Gandalf admitted.

I considered.

On one hand, this was likely to be highly interesting at the very least. On the other, I had different fingers.

"Okay, I'll help."

"Excellent," said Legolas, with a look in his eye that suggested he was looking forward to getting an arena full of Mary Sues to pick off one by one with his bow. "When do we begin?"

"Immediately," I announced, turning to the computer. "Although…" I trailed off.

The unasked question was in the air. "What?"

"You'll have to pay for your own therapy."

**Footnotes: **

**1. ****Wait. I don't have a sister. Byproduct of insanity, I suppose…  
**

**If you have read the original version, is this better?**

**If you have not, is this any good at all?**


	2. Legolas Has a Breakdown, or Several

**Holy jumping crapmonkeys. I wrote another chapter!**

Okay. So. The Fellowship—THE Fellowship—is in my bedroom. Huddled around my computer. Looking to me for help. Okay. I can deal with that. I'm totally cool. I am completely fine with this.

I think I can suppress the 'holy shit' feeling I'm having right now for long enough to do something useful…yeah…

…you know, I really wish Aragorn had had a chance to take a bath before he'd gotten here…but anyways…

Right. So. Where was I? Oh yeah. The Fellowship is in my bedroom, standing around my computer. A few clicks later, I'm at fanfiction dot net, the Lord of the Rings front page.

Scanning over the summaries, I looked for something promising. What exactly is promising? I'm guessing something so terrible it makes my eyes bleed. Where to go from there…well, I'll leave that to the one who can magic people in and out of books. Apparently.

Ah, this looks like paydirt. _A mysterious, beautiful half-elven girl with strange powers is transported to ME to fulfill her destiny. She falls in love with Legolas but Boromir loves her too! Who will she choose?_

I could tell that this was something that we'd been looking for (I was still a little unclear on what exactly that was), because Legolas screamed and started babbling incoherently, Boromir twitched a little, and Gandalf stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"I take it that you don't want to read this," I remarked dryly, clicking the link.

"He doesn't need to," Gimli said bluntly. "We've all heard it before."

I stared at Legolas, who was now in a fetal position sobbing for his mother. "So why is he…?" I never finished that question, because just then the page loaded and I saw exactly why.

_Hannah Estelle Meyer had large, soulful brown eyes that had infinite depth _("She's describing her ALREADY?!")_. She had black hair with blonde highlights, which were natural _("BULLSHIT!" "Watch your language, girl." "Sorry.")_. She had curves in all the right places, and flawless, unblemished skin that was pale, but not in an unhealthy way, it glowed like the full moon. Her hair curled perfectly to frame her delicate features, which were unearthly in their beauty. She was really self conscious about her looks because the boys at school always stared at her, and the girls gave her nasty looks and talked about her behind her back._

_She was really sad because her alcoholic dad always beat her and her mom wished she had never been born and also was a cocaine addict _("That's totally not cliché! Or, you know. Not.")_. They never had any money because it all went to her brother, who had brain, heart, and skin cancer at the same time, and also AIDS _("H…how?!")_. Hannah was really sad about that because her brother was the only one who was ever nice to her, and when he died in a car crash her parents blamed her for his death._

_But Hannah was always patient, nice, kind, considerate, compassionate, giving, selfless _("Some poor thesaurus is getting raped somewhere out there.")_, and she never complained and was thankful for what she had. But nobody liked her because she was really good at cooking, drawing, running, sports, writing, and pretty much everything she tried _("Get tired of listing talents, did we?")_. Hannah was very talented and everybody was really jealous of her because of that._

_Hannah was also a huge fan of the Lord of the Rings, they were her favorite movies _("Thank the dear sweet lord. I don't think I want her kind actually reading books.")_. She felt a special connection to the character Legolas _("NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—" "Please shut up, Legolas.")_, and not just the actor, but she thought Boromir was cute too. _("Oh, Eru, no," the man in question moaned)

_One day Hannah was walking to school (where she got straight A's, but her teachers didn't like her because she was always correcting them, even though she did in a nice way) and thinking about her life. "I know I shouldn't complain," Hannah said to herself. "But I feel as though I just don't fit in. As if there's something…missing." She sighed dramatically. "But I just can't put my finger on it!" she exclaimed, stamping her foot in a way that was more cute than bratty._

_When she got home,_ ("I thought she was going to school." "Please stop acting as if these people have any sense of logic whatsoever. It's rather unsettling."), _she decided to watch her favorite movies, the Lord of the Rings_ ("Gee, because we forgot that in the last three seconds."). _She was at the part where Legolas was doing something sexy _("NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—" At which point Legolas was punched in the gut by Gimli and promptly shut up.) _when suddenly she felt all weird. There was a voice in her head that said, "Hannah Estelle Meyer, Middle Earth needs you, it is your destiny." And then she blacked out._

_**hey guyzzz whatd u htink? awsum rite? i hope u dont think dat hannah is a mary sue cos i no she isnt. NO FLAMEZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111**_

_**revie or I wont put up teh next chatperr **_

_**-hannahcullenxleggygreenleaf69**_

There was a very long, very heavy silence in which we all tried to process what we had just read. None of us were very successful.

"Oh dear," I said.

"My sentiments exactly," Gandalf agreed.

"Well," said Aragorn cheerfully. "At least _I _wasn't in it."

"That remark is going to come back to bite you, my friend," said Legolas.

"Said the subject of the horror's fantasies," Aragorn retorted.

That hit a nerve. It must have, anyway, because Legolas adopted a look of sheer terror and collapsed on the ground whimpering.

"He…he doesn't have much psychological resistance, does he?" I asked, staring at the so-called wise and noble Prince of Mirkwood shivering on my bedroom floor.

There was a chorus of agreement through the room.

"Hmm," I intoned, wondering how much he could take before losing all reason.

And before anybody could stop me (and I got the feeling most of them would have really liked to), I clicked the 'next chapter' button.


	3. Excursions to the Naughty Corner

If you're harboring any optimistic delusions about the quality of the next chapter, then you are sadly mistaken. It did, in fact, get much, much worse, or at least I think so, (being rather desensitized to this sort of thing) judging by Legolas's ever-more-frequent screams of horror.

_Hannah woke up in a forest. She got up and looked around, wondering where she was. It didn't look like any forest she recognized, and it felt different. _I think I'm in a different world! _She thought insightfully. _("Yes, what a logical conclusion to come to, upon waking up in unfamiliar, deserted territory." "Aragorn, I can see how that would be nigh sacrilege to you, due to the whole ranger thing, but is it absolutely necessary to knock the furniture over?") I think it's Middle Earth! _She thought. She felt confused, but happy, too, and also a bit scared _("Real wide range of emotions she has, doesn't she?")_. She wandered in a random direction for a while, _("SACRILEGE!" "That chair was an antique!" "Er, sorry…" "That's it, mister; it's the naughty corner for you." "Haha, Aragorn got the naughty corner!" "Shut up, Boromir…")_ hoping to find civi…civalu…civulisa…a city. _

_After walking for a few hours, she began to feel hungry. Just as she was beginning to wonder if it was a bad idea to wander around aimlessly with no sense of direction in an unfamiliar place—_

I broke off. Something didn't seem right. The grammar was strangely impeccable, and 'Hannah' seemed TOO Sueish, even by my standards, not to mention oddly aware of her own stupidity. After a couple seconds of silence, it clicked. Oh. Well, damn_._

"Sorry, false alarm, guys," I announced with a sigh.

There was another one of those pregnant silences, like the one from chapter one.

"WHAT?!"

I twiddled my thumbs sheepishly. "It's not a real fic, just a parody. Not even a troll, if the good grammar is anything to go by."

Legolas gave a small sigh of relief, temporarily not having Mary Sues thrown at him. Aragorn gave me a glare from the naughty corner (Think it strange for me to throw kings in the naughty corner you might, but do remember that it WAS a very nice chair and I DO have that freaky voice that I plan on using on that sister I don't have. If you understood any of that last sentence, I commend you on your genius/psychosis), and Gimli laughed while Gandalf remained inscrutable.

The Hobbits didn't seem to be paying attention much, with good reason, I suppose, as the fandom mostly leaves them alone. Rude little blighters, just wait till I show them the slash fics…It occurred to me what a vengeful, malicious thought that was, and I realized with some satisfaction that I didn't care. Boromir looked slightly disappointed, though, which puzzled me until I realized he had been fingering his sword (anybody who makes inappropriate comments and/or jokes about that phrase will be lynched/tarred and feathered/burned at the stake/insert medieval vigilante punishment of choice here. This extends to any mentions of blowing the Horn of Gondor) eagerly for the duration of the fic and muttering various and very violent things he was planning on doing to 'her'. Well, one mystery solved, at any rate.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, let's all berate the one you apparently crossed dimensions to ask for help from…" I grumbled, clicking the back button and scanning further down the list of fics for something equally terrible.

Hmm…this looks promising. The grammar was bad, but not THAT bad, and about half of it was just random babble. I can't really bear to see all those green and red marks on my screen as I relate my encounter with the LotR characters and fandom to you, the kind, naïve reader who is clearly reading this as harmless entertainment, so I am correcting the grammar and spelling as I go. I'm sure you'll thank me if you ever look at the front page of the section any time in the near future.

_Persephone is an ordinary girl who has her world turned upside down when she finds herself in Middle Earth. She falls in love with Legolas but does he love her back? _

Followed by:

_L/OC R&R NO FLAMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is my first fic and I think Legolas is sooooooo hot so no criticizing me or I'll make Leggy go after you with his bow lololol._

The actual, untranslated summary was much worse, believe me. [1] It was only years of hardened resistance to such horrors that stopped my eyes from shriveling up in my head, taking up religion and grabbing the next bus to Florida.

It took Legolas about five minutes to fully process the summary alone. When the message finally got to his brain, he sunk down onto to floor without a word, pulling his knees up to his chest and attempting to take deep, even breaths.

I offered him a biscuit.

_Persephone sighed and stared out the window. She was in school and was really bored. She was in math, her least favorite subject._

"Who wants to bet that math is the writer's least favorite subject, too?" I asked. Boromir, Merry and Pippin rummaged in their knapsacks.

_Her teacher was really mean and gave waaay too much homework, and her parents always made her do all of it before she could watch TV. It was so unfair_.

"And this pertains to the story…how?"

"Just the author venting her petty frustrations in her, ah, 'piece'," I answered without interest. I was the only one. Legolas was still in his knee-hugging position.

_Persephone had silky brown hair that cascaded down her back in soft, shiny curls. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown that looked gold in the sunlight. Her skin was soft and unblemished, a palishely tan shade that was just right._

"Overtly flowery description is overtly flowery," I stated bluntly.

Sam was staring at the screen in disbelief. "Palishely…tan…?" he mumbled, horrorstruck.

_Her nose was long and straight, noble looking—_

"Er, this goes on for another five paragraphs," I said, breaking off. "Skip it, yes?"

The chorus of agreement was so obvious it didn't even need to be vocalized.

_The bell rang—it was time to go home. Persephone picked up her school bag and walked home with her BFF Allyson._

I broke off reading again. I let out a mighty groan and just barely resisted the temptation to bang my head into the desk repeatedly until my brains started leaking out of my ears [2]. The others looked at me with apprehensive curiosity.

"It's a friendfic," I explained tiredly. Friendfics were a blight upon the rest of the fanfiction world. Yes, even all the OTHER badfics. They generally involve a KRAAAAAAZZZZEEEEE!!!! teenage girl and her equally KRAAAAAAAZZZZEEEEE!!!! best friend who randomly get transported to Arda to fall in love with [insert fangirl target of choice] and [insert other fangirl target of choice].

"Which means…?" asked Boromir, articulating the thought of several Fellowship members.

I glanced surreptitiously between Aragorn and Boromir. "Er…let's just keep reading, yes?" It's best to let them believe they were safe until the latest possible moment.

_Allyson was a total punk. Her hair was raven-colored, with purple, pink, and green highlights at the tips. Her eyes were electric blue with flecks of gold in them. Her nails were painted red with black skull appliqués on them._

"Oh! Oh! Let me guess!" said Merry excitedly. "And her skin was radioactive orange with maroon polka dots, right?"

I laughed. Then I realized it was a serious guess.

_Her skin was super pale, but not in an unhealthy way. She had piercings in her—_

"We don't want to know," Aragorn said flatly. I blinked and innocently scrolled through several more paragraphs of explicit and somewhat disturbing description.[3]

"_So, Ally, you wanna go to my house and watch LOTR?" said Persephone. Lord of the Rings was their favorite movie._

"Makes you wonder if she even knows the book exists, doesn't it?" I remarked dryly.

"Quite," said Gandalf shortly. Even _he_ looked vaguely disgusted. Frankly, I was getting worried. I mean, if it was getting to _Gandalf_…

"_Yeah, totally!" Allyson said happily. Persephone smiled happily back at her._

"And then they happily shared a happy walk home where they happily watched the movie eating happy popcorn happily, right?" said Merry in a tone of utmost seriousness. I wasn't sure if he was joking or not, which only added to my unease.

_Ally made popcorn and Persy set up the DVD._

"Oh, Eru, she's starting with nicknames." It was then I realized that I might have gotten myself into something way out of my league. Because when _Frodo, _carry-the-evil-jewelry-to-a-volcano-in-extremely-nasty-circumstances-Frodo, says something in _that_ tone, it dawns on you just how horrifying a fanfic has to be.

_They sat on the couch and watched, although the first part was kind of boring._

Members of said first part winced a bit in indignation.

_They were at the part where everybody was in Riverdale_

A pause. Then, "_Riverdale?!"_ I was far too used to this particular variation of the spelling to be as righteously furious as I ought to have been.

_When Ally started feeling weird. Her head was spinning_

"Because an axe-wielding murderer had cut it off?" said Sam hopefully.

_And she felt woozy. Then she passed out._

It was vaguely disconcerting how disappointed everybody looked.

_Persephone looked concerned_

"Her best friend is passed out on the ground for no reason and she…looks concerned? Fantastic, caring friend, she is."

_But then she also felt dizzy. With a slight cry, she passed out too._

"Is it too much to hope for that some sort of maniac walks in and murders them both?" Legolas asked weakly, who had with difficulty managed not to run screaming from the room.

"Well, yes, it is," I answered cheerfully. "But the good news is that this is the end of the chapter." Well, not quite true, there was the author's note, and it was longer than the actual chapter. Rest assured it was full of heinous butchering of the English language, numerous explanation marks, caps rape, assurances of Legolas's 'hawtness', and various other gag-worthy aspects that I will not relate for fear of the reader's already tenuous sanity.

Sighs of relief, puzzled expressions, disgusted ones, etc. etc.

"The question is," said Aragorn. "What to do now?"

I considered. This was, after all, the internet. The most I could realistically do was flame the story into the pits of hell with my usual enthusiasm, but people such as her (I knew this badfic was, in fact, written by a female. Badfics written by males usually involve aliens and zombies [4]) generally let criticism roll of their backs on the grounds of 'ur just jelus!11!11!!!' or 'i can rite mi stori how I wunt!11!!1'. I suppose if I was REALLY desperate to do something about her, I could track her IP, figure out her name and address, hop on a plane and knock on her door with a crowbar and a smile, but for one thing, I'm pretty sure that stuff is illegal, and for another, I don't think it would really do much.

And that left two things. A) do nothing, and B) cross the boundaries of time, space, logic and good taste by somehow magically crossing into the world of fanon, wherein we would physically hunt the Sue to the death using various very big and very lethal guns.

The choice was clear.

"Buddy," I said, turning to Gandalf. "I think you're gonna have to tell me just how far that staff of yours can bend the rules of reality."

Boromir grinned a grin so evil it could easily have been one of mine. Legolas went for the rather less impressive option of whimpering a bit.

--

Footnotes:

[1] Sample text: PErsephone is a ordinry grl wh gets hr world turned upsid down whn se fidns herself in ME. she falls in lurve wit leglas,but dose he luv her back?!?!

[2] It was a nice desk. I didn't want dents or stray brain fluid getting all over it.

[3] Serves him right for breaking that chair.

[4] Not kidding. There is actually a fic called 'Zombies in Middle Earth' or something like that, the companion to which involves aliens.

**Eh, yeah, sorry about the rather abrupt 'it's a parody, this is the REAL badfic!' thing…don't ask me why. Call it intuition. And about the 'no updates for months and months' thing...yeahhh, I tend to do that. Makes you glad I don't write real fics, doesn't it? Next chapter: crap actually starts happening! Hoorah!**


	4. Split Screen!

_Selena Luna Artemis Raven Moonlight awoke in a forest. She slowly opened her ocean blue orbs, fluttering her dark, thick eyelashes. Her silky waist-length hair was dark as pitch, and it fluttered in the breeze as she sat up delicately, her pale, slim wrist raised over her unblemished forehead._

"_Wh-where am I?" she enquired daintily, having horrible flashbacks to her childhood foster home, where she was beaten and raped by her 'father' on a daily basis. She rose shakily, her beautiful velvet gown swishing around her tiny feet. "I think I may be in Middle—"_

"Oh, give me a break."

At which point she was hit in the back of the head with a cast iron frying pan and swiftly knocked unconscious.

I nudged her with a toe, making sure she was out. When she did nothing but groan and drool slightly, I turned and addressed the foliage. "Coast is clear."

After a moment of rustling, Legolas emerged with his bow, pouting.

"You could have let me have her," he muttered, replacing his drawn arrow into its quiver. "I have a lot of pent up anger, you know."

"Legolas, the last time somebody even mentioned a Sue within earshot, you screamed like a small, frightened girl and ran out of the room," I said offhandedly, dragging Selena's unconscious husk into the bushes. He muttered something about exposure therapy and tried to help me tie her up while touching as little of her as possible.

With the Sue safely [1] secured to a tree, I dusted myself off. "We better go find the others."

For some reason, when we were sent into the realm of fanon we were separated. I had run into Legolas fairly quickly by tracking his screaming about 'now being in the same realm as the deplorable creatures', but nobody else was anywhere to be found. Middle Earth was a big place, but I figured that since most Sues occurred in elvish hubs, that's where the others were. I, of course, hadn't the slightest clue where we were right now. I was kind of hoping Legolas would figure it out before we got totally lost.

We trudged along the path for a while, me still brandishing my frying pan and Legolas having nocked another arrow in case of more volatile Sues.

I couldn't help but wonder though, why _had _we gotten separated? If canonbending is powerful enough to cross the dimensions of reality and fiction, then surely it should be powerful enough to keep a handful of people together. Whoever was writing my story right now must have had a twisted sense of humor.

--

_Elsewhere, in a different dimension altogether…_

--

Gandalf sighed slightly and continued to fiddle with the cables. It was impossible, he decided. The mortals of this realm had a ridiculous affinity with making the slightest image and sound transmission heinously complicated. Now this big cable probably went into that hole in the wall…or maybe it attached to that other, thicker one, which in turn connected to the wall? But then where did all the smaller wires go? And blast if he knew where the whole lot connected with the screen itself.

"Useless," he grumbled.

Eventually it was all set up, after several hours and an unwilling consultation of the owner's manual. From there it was a simple matter of connecting each screen to the individual auras of the questers via a simple transdimensional travel spell.

A quick raiding of the fridge later, he was happily seated at the swivel chair, surveying the screens in turn.

Ah. It seemed that the girl and Legolas had just attacked a Sue and were hiding the body. Shame, he thought. They must have been very creative with it. But now it seemed that they were just going to hike for a while, so he shifted his attention elsewhere.

The hobbits had found each other well enough, apparently. He wondered if they all had some kind of interpersonal GPS. Then he wondered what a GPS was and why in the name of Mandos he had just thought it.

Ahhhh, there was something fascinating going on with Aragorn and Boromir, who had arrived together. Most everybody else was just trekking along looking for civilization, much like most of the original quest.

Gandalf leaned back in his chair and smiled, getting ready for a show. Oh, being a Maia was _fun._

--

_Swish._

_Shing!_

_Swish._

_Shing!_

_Swish._

_Whoosh._

"Watch it! That one almost took my head off!"

"I apologize," Boromir deadpanned, sounding so impressively unapologetic that he should have been eligible for a reward.

"I don't see why you're so angry," Aragorn said primly, pushing a few low-hanging vines out of the way. "What's wrong with a little hike?"

"Maybe because we're stuck in the middle of a **censored** forest with no **censored** civilization for _miles_, forced to cut around the trees just to move_, _being constantly under threat of being attacked by one of those **censored censored**_ Sues, _and here we have Mister **censored **Ranger and his **censored censored **obsession with—"

At this point Aragorn stopped listening, because the dense foliage surrounding them started to rustle. Now, Aragorn was a ranger. He knew what wind-rustling, animal-rustling, and human-rustling sounded like. Don't question it, he just did. And there was almost certainly one or more people in the bushes in front of him.

"—and if you don't shut your **censored **mouth about the 'great outdoors', I will personally shove a **censored censored **up your **censored **with a **censored** **censored censored!**"

"Boromir," the ranger said. "Kindly shut up. I think something is following us."

The Captain-General raised an eyebrow. "Some_thing?_"

Aragorn nodded, standing stock still and listening for more motion. His eyes darted around sharply, his grip on Anduril tightening. Again, something disturbing the otherwise strangely silent atmosphere.

There! He could have sworn he'd seen a glint of an unnatural color—Sue eyes, perhaps?

And again, on a different side. He spun around, heart pounding. The disturbances were getting louder, closer, and now he was absolutely sure there were at least two of the things stalking them.

Aragorn was no coward. In fact, bravery and gallantry all but oozed out of his pores. He was a hero, a king, the Savior™ of Gondor; he had over a dozen different names, not to mention he was over eighty and looked barely thirty. He was _Aragorn. _'Aragorn' and 'coward' were mutually exclusive.

However, this did not stop him screaming like a small girl when a kaleidoscope-eyed, long-haired _thing _leaped from the trees and tackled him to the ground, nearly shattering his eardrums with a high-pitched squeal.

And while this was something the vengeful, sadistic part of Boromir enjoyed quite a lot, his mirth was somewhat dampered by a similarly colored girl landing on his back.

--

"Merry?"

"Yes, Pip?"

"That girl…I think she may be rabid."

"What makes you say that?"

"That look in her eye is startlingly similar to Farmer Maggot's old dog—remember him? And she's foaming at the mouth a bit."

"Oh. Yes, now that you mention it. Shouldn't we, well, run?"

"I don't think she notices our existence, really. Much less Sam's."

"_OH EM GEE, FRODO, YOU ARE SOOOOO KAWAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!! LEMME HUG YOU!"_

"On second thought, running seems like a good idea."

"Seconded."

"What?! Merry? Pippin? Come back! HELP! She won't let go! AAAAUGH!"

--

Gimli, for once, was completely satisfied.

He sat comfortably with is bag against a tree, dragging a whetstone along the edge of his axe methodically. Today was a good day. Pleasant weather, relaxing peace, good food and ale (which he had procured from a nearby village), and above all, no nancing elves.

Well, besides the Sues. But they didn't count.

Oh, here came another one now.

"Lyk, hi!!111!111!!" she announced, nancing up to him and flipping her metallic blue hair. This was an impressive specimen. Her eyes were bulging, taking up nearly half her face. Her nose and lips were tiny, and her clothes were so small and ridiculously impractical that Gimli had to wonder how she managed to walk. Her hair was a bright cerulean shade, and apparently did not follow the laws of gravity, as it floated around her at least five feet out. "I'm, lyk, lookin 4 Riverdale and stuff, so, lyk, u bettah tell me ware it iz or Ill kill u wit mah supah kewl elfan powerzz!!11! Cuz dwarfs, lyk, suk!111!11"

He nodded, and promptly put his axe through her chest.

"Nut kewl d00d!!11!111" she moaned, exploding in a flurry of sparkles, which joined the rest of the Sue debris on the ground. He shook some of the stuff off of his boots and went back to sharpening his axe, pausing only to wipe the golden Sueblood off of it for the sixth time in the past hour.

Oh, yes, today was a good day.

--

Footnotes:

1. Safely for us, anyway; she'd probably get eaten by wild animals or starve to death before she escaped


	5. Some Casual Homicide

You know what I hate?

Hiking.

You know what I hate more?

Hiking while lost.

You know what I hate even more than both of those?

Hiking while lost and hungry.

You know what I hate twice as much as that last one?

Having Legolas pause every couple minutes to try to figure out where we are. By examining the patterns on the leaves or something, apparently.

So, having put up with this idiocy for the past several hours, I wasn't particularly surprised when once again he stopped, looked around, and actually sniffed the air for some kind of magical elven scent traces. I was, however, surprised when this yielded actual results.

"I know this place," he murmured. "This is the road to Imladris."

I stopped mid-step, my current thoughts about peanut butter sandwiches grinding to a halt. Rivendell? Oh, _hell. _I took a deep breath, curling my fingers into fists.

"Oh, no," I announced flatly. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No. NO. This is _not_ what I signed up for."

He peered quizzically at me, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Rivendell," I moaned. "Of all the places in Middle Earth, all the homes, all the landscape, everywhere that we could have ended up, and it's _Rivendell!_"

He blinked several times. "I assure you, miss, it's really quite nice there—"

"That's not what I mean," I said. "Rivendell is the most Sue-suffused place in this entire country. The place is practically _crawling _with them by now. I'm good, buddy, but I'm not that good. You walk in there, you get torn apart."

He paled significantly, droplets of sweat suddenly visible on his forehead. "Oh."

"That's what I said! The question is what to do now?"

He tried to control his shaking, and was wholly unsuccessful in the venture. "Well, obviously, we run as fast as we can in the opposite direction. Then we get to the sea and swim across, where we spend the remainder of our lives hiding in Valinor."

"Great plan," I deadpanned. "With one tiny flaw."

"We can build a raft!" he said defensively.

"Not that," I snapped. "Well…yes, that, but that's not what I mean. I mean Valar!Sues. Do you really want to face an all-powerful uber-sue, Legolas? Do you?" My voice wasn't particularly threatening, but talk of Valar!Sues always comes off as having a hint of a blade in it.

Then a strange thing occured--I could almost literally see his thoughts. They weren't positive ones.

His shoulders slumped, defeated. "Rivendell it is, then," he said in a monotone.

"Cheer up," I said brightly, putting an arm around his shoulders. "I'm sure we can think of a plan before we get there!"

"Please…stop touching me."

--

Strangely, Boromir was holding up far better than his king.

Whereas the Gondorian man had managed to pin the…_thing_ to a tree and effectively disarm it, the ranger had allowed himself to be backed farther and farther away by the bigger one.

"Oh my gawsh, Arry, your hair is, like, sooo silky!" she sighed dreamily, her eyes suddenly Bambi-like in size.

"I haven't washed it in three years!" the King of Gondor yelped in a most uncharacteristic manner.

"That's, like, so rugged and manly," she squealed, rushing forward and—for lack of a better word—glomped him.

"Boromir! Help me!" he yelled in a strangled voice, trying to avoid suffocation by her gravity-defying hair.

"I'm busy," the man in question replied tersely, turning back to the Sue he had pinned by the throat.

"Now," he said to her. "What is your name? Do not lie," he threatened, tightening his grip on her neck slightly.

She coughed slightly and squirmed, but answered. "I'm, like, Neko Kawaii-chan, and this is, like, my spirit wolf demon, Nariel."

Boromir noticed a black blob of fur slinking around the ground, and then the fact that she had pink cat ears. He decided to ignore those implications and continue questioning her.

"Why were you and your friend following us?"

Here her lower lip wobbled and she burst into noisy tears. "I, like, didn't want to!" she wailed. "That girl made me!"

His eyes widened. "What?"

"There was, like, this girl," the Sue continued, still sobbing. "She was all ugly and stuff, but she could do…things."

"What kind of 'things'?"

"She could make us look like this by writing on her computer thing," she sniffled. "She said we had to go here and find you guys."

"Why?"

"True love, man! That girl said that she couldn't have it, so we should, but now that we're here you're being all mean and stuff and this is no way to treat a lady—" From there her words became utterly unintelligible in their high-pitched blubbering. He released her, letting her slump to the ground and continue her tantrum.

"I think I broke her," he remarked to Aragorn, surveying the sobbing cat-girl at his feet.

"Funny," the king replied, in a voice less amused than a father finding out that his child had been killed shortly after coming out of the closet. "Usually it's the other way around." Which, admittedly, made a certain level of sense, as the Sue currently hanging all over him was now attempting to remove his clothes. "Little help here!"

"Right." Boromir strode over to the giggling thing, and with one deft stroke cut her head off, freezing a look of mild surprise on her disproportionate and unnaturally colorful features. Oddly enough, instead of collapsing and bleeding, she burst into a shower of sparkles and flecks of gold, leaving a sickly sweet scent in the air.

He brushed some of the shiny gunk off of his tunic. "Better?"

Aragorn stared, still in a position of cowering. "You just killed her!"

"No," said Boromir. "I killed _it._ Those things are not of this world." He paused. "In the bad way," he added.

"That's…that's not much better!"

"Oh, whatever," the man of Gondor said, exasperated. "The point being, that other one told me something very interesting."

"Well, what?"

He told him.

--

The path became wider as we went along. At least, it didn't require us to fight the trees quite so much to move. Legolas, it appeared, had fallen into a state of (temporary?) depression, as he said nothing and his feet barely left the ground as he walked—or rather, shuffled. My attempts to cheer him up with games of I Spy were, sadly, unsuccessful.

Which is just weird. I mean, who doesn't like I Spy?

"Aw, come on, Legolas," I whined. "Sue assassination isn't nearly as fun with you moping around. Think of how lovely the look on their faces is just as they realize that you'll never love them and they're going to die horribly!"

And damn, it was. We had encountered a few of the tamer ones on the way, and before I could get at them with my frying pan, he'd sent an arrow through their hearts without so much as a pause. And as disturbing as it was to see this particular side of Legolas, it was, indeed, far more satisfying than any first-person shooter I'd ever played.

Although the sparkly gunk was going to take _forever_ to get out of my shoes.

He mumbled something incoherent in response.

"Oh, you're no fun anymore," I sighed, rolling my eyes.

This was both good and bad—good, because it conveyed my annoyance at him in a nonverbal fashion, and bad, because in the split second that my eyes were skyward I managed to crash into something.

This something was a large, dark and very dense wall.

I rebounded slightly, falling to the ground in a most undignified manner for the second time in so many hours.

"Whowazzuh?" I said, rubbing my forehead where it had collided with the wall.

"It's a block," Legolas said flatly.

My brow furrowed. "No it's—oh, wait. Yes, it is." And indeed, it was a block rather than a wall. The thing was…malevolent. Just looking at it evoked feelings of dread and anxiety in me, as if the same material it was made from was clotting up in my gut. It radiated an aura of evil and ill intent, and actually touching it made me give an involuntary shudder.

Curious…very curious. I had a hunch.

"Legolas, touch it, will you?"

He gave me a funny look. "Why?"

"Just do it!"

He sighed, but placed his palm on its surface. "Am I supposed to be feeling something?"

I chewed my lip, trying to suppress the '_get away!_' feeling the thing was sending toward me. "You should," I said slowly. "But you don't, which means that I think I know what we have here. What does it feel like?"

"Nothing," he replied simply, shrugging. But then his eyes widened, realization dawning. "_Nothing," _he repeated, eyes widening.

I nodded. "Exactly. What we have here is a Writer's Block."

He stared blankly at me for several moments. "So we walk around it."

"Ah," I said. "If only it were that easy. Try walking in the opposite direction."

After about fifteen seconds, I didn't have to look his way to know that he'd just collided with the very same block.

"Alright," he said, turning back around. "I see your point. So how do we keep moving?"

I considered this, stroking my imaginary goatee. "We wait," I answered after a moment.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am. Writer's Blocks are tricky things, hard to get rid of and impossible to bypass. I would know." I'm assuming most of you people reading this know as well, considering that I have been forced to publish this on a fanfiction site rather than somewhere else—something about plagiarism and lack of professionalism, pfft. "Anyway, I'll be damned if there's anything that can get rid of the stupid thing without resorting to blowing it and most of the stuff within a mile radius of it up. And I'm not even sure _that _would work."

"And there's nothing else we can do?"

"Well, do you have any inspirational music or caffeine?"

"Not as such, no."

"Then no."

--

Gandalf frowned. Things were slowing down. That was no good. Legolas and the girl were just sitting around for some reason, and seeing them argue about types of cheeses out of sheer boredom lost its charm after the first ten minutes. Aragorn and Boromir weren't much better—they were having some kind of lengthy discussion about something while the Sue at their feet had a nervous breakdown.

"At least kill her!" he growled at this screen, spilling some popcorn.

The other screens weren't any more interesting, either. The hobbits, for all their use in stealth, couldn't quite shake off the—fangirl, was it? She wasn't ridiculous looking enough to be a Sue, so he supposed so. Gimli hadn't done anything but relax with some casual homicide since he'd arrived in the frightening realm of fanon. He wasn't very creative, either. An axe through the chest every time—where was the craft? The finesse?

He shook his head. People these days. Absolutely no respect for the art of slaughter. One of these days he was going to teach them a lesson about how to properly murder a people.

He sighed and played Tetris for a while instead.

--

**My thanks and a plate of cookies to Demoness Drakon, critic and beta extraordinaire.**


End file.
